Thus, lina officially beca a mber of Arthur’s household.
Yet compared to life in the real world, she preferred accompanying Arthur through the Lands Between.
Unlike Ranni, lina did not possess a small doll body.
She traveled in her true physical form.
And one should not mistake her eleven- or twelve-year-old appearance for weakness.
lina was still a divine being. She inherited Marika’s Nun lineage talents and retained the combat techniques of the Black Knife Assassins.
With her current strength, assassinating a weaker demigod would be effortless.
When lina asked to travel alongside Arthur, Malenia and the others—now spirits—were present as well.
They, too, wished to return to the Lands Between for a look.
But without physical bodies, their power had been reduced to less than a tenth of its forr strength.
Arthur could not possibly allow them to wander a land filled with maddened beings.
So he devised a compromise.
Using Ranni’s doll as a template, Arthur crafted several replica puppets.
Malenia, Trina, and the others only needed to attach a wisp of their soul to the dolls to see through their eyes—and even move and speak through them.
Fortunately, they rely wished to visit occasionally. They were not as eager as lina to journey constantly at Arthur’s side.
For them, the puppets were sufficient.
And so, whenever Arthur traveled the Lands Between, several doll pendants now hung quietly at his side.
Azkaban — The Unwelco Visitor
Far to the north of Britain, in the icy sea, stood an unnad island.
It appeared on no map—neither Muggle nor wizard.
For it was Azkaban.
The only official wizarding prison in Britain.
Rumors claid the island itself was created by magic. Others believed its internal space had been magically expanded.
The truth was uncertain.
Originally, the island had belonged to a powerful Dark wizard nad Ekrizdis, who lured, tortured, and murdered passing Muggle sailors for sport.
Only after his death did the Ministry discover the island and its fortress.
The first investigators returned pale and silent, willing only to ntion that the place was infested with Dentors.
Later, Dark Arts experts concluded that every wall of the fortress was saturated with tornt and despair—and that the Dentors were bound to those very stones.
Any attempt to destroy the structure would provoke violent retaliation.
The fortress was abandoned for years.
Then ca the International Statute of Secrecy.
The Ministry realized scattered prisons across Britain posed security risks. A breakout could expose wizardkind through explosions or magical flashes.
Thus, Azkaban was repurposed.
With thousands of Dentors acting as guards, it required minimal manpower and expense.
And so Azkaban beca what it is today.
The Return of Voldemort
But today—
Azkaban welcod an uninvited guest.
He cared nothing for its history.
He cared only whether those imprisoned inside had been driven mad by Dentors.
The figure stepping onto the island was none other than Voldemort—returned from the realm of death.
Having grasped the power of death itself, he ca directly to reclaim his followers.
The Ministry of Magic, currently consud by ministerial elections, noticed nothing.
And Azkaban, remote and desolate, was rarely supervised directly.
Voldemort entered without obstruction.
The Dentors sensed a foreign presence.
They gathered from every corner of the island in a black tide.
Eager.
Hungry.
The nearest Dentor lunged at Voldemort, pressing against his face, attempting to devour his happiness.
And then—
It found nothing.
No joy.
No soul to extract.
Its dim awareness faltered.
If there was no happiness, it should have been able to suck out his soul entirely.
Unless...
This was sothing dangerous.
Before it could react, Voldemort raised his hand and seized it by the throat.
Black mist poured from his palm—like ink spreading through water.
The Dentor’s gray form darkened.
Where the black mist touched, its essence withered.
In seconds, the black consud it entirely.
The Dentor disintegrated into powder.
Gone.
Voldemort examined the lingering deathly haze around his fingers.
"So this is the power of death," he murmured. "Even Dentors can be killed."
This was rely the most basic application of his newfound power.
He turned slowly, surveying the countless Dentors surrounding him.
"Submit to ," he said calmly, "or be destroyed."
He needed forces.
Dentors were ideal—nurous and devastating against any wizard lacking a Patronus.
The remaining Dentors hesitated only briefly.
They were not intelligent—but neither were they foolish.
They had witnessed what just happened.
Their draining ability was ineffective against him.
Even if they overwheld him by numbers, it would change nothing.
And they were not confident they could exhaust him anyway.
The black mist still clung to his hand—an unmistakable threat.
One by one—
The Dentors bowed.
They chose submission without resistance.
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